Chapter 3: Academic Struggles & Chasing Femi

I be honest person, but fine face dey move me.

Na true, o! As I dey talk, my friends go dey laugh say I too dey follow fine boys. But who go blame me?

Me, I no fine, but I like fine men.

My own face just dey normal. Nothing special. Even mirror dey sometimes tire for me. But if I see fine bobo, my heart go dey dance Shaku Shaku.

If I imagine ugly man dey on top me, I go rather kpai.

I don try, I swear. One time, my aunty say make I try date one gentle guy, but as I imagine the two of us, I just dey fear say my pikin go resemble that side. I just no fit.

So, I work hard from small.

I know say for this Nigeria, na only hustle fit save person. I gather myself, dey grind book like person dey grind pepper for market.

I sabi say, as I no get face or family name, fine man no go look my side.

All those Lagos boys, na packaging and connection dem dey find. If you no get name or shine, dem no go rate you.

I do well for JAMB, but e no reach.

After I finish secondary school, I read sotay my eye dey pain me. JAMB score high, but e still no reach Federal. I manage enter state university. No be all of us go Unilag or ABU, abeg.

For Naija, if you no come from better school, dem go treat you like stray dog.

Interview sef, dem go look you like say you thief. "Which school you go?" Once you call name, dem go shift file.

Master’s degree no reach, I chase PhD join.

I no gree. I talk say I go do Master’s, after that, na PhD remain. If e easy, make dem do am too.

With my honest face and the way I dey respect my supervisor, I gather better result, land job for top research institute.

I dey always show respect. If I see oga, na knee I dey take greet, no be mouth. Na so I gather result, land government job.

I think say e don do.

I dey reason say, "Ah, I don finally arrive!" But for this Naija, arrival no dey finish.

But the day I see Femi, I realise—e still far.

E enter research institute one day, the place just light up. Even madam for Admin dey smile anyhow. I see am, heart miss beat.

I dey drink with oga dem, do overtime after drink, use weekend dey write paper for oga pikin.

Na so I dey hustle. My own no dey finish. Even on Saturday, na my laptop be my babe. I dey help people, dey look for connection.

Finally, as I still dey young, I reach assistant director for the institute.

Omo, that level no easy! All my mates dey still find where to land, me I don dey deputy. Na God run am.

I don qualify to chase Femi!

Na that time I tell myself, "Babe, you fit run this race! Femi no go see you finish."

As I dey chase am, people dey arrange blind date for me.

All those church aunties, dem dey worry me. "Morayo, come meet my cousin!" I no too get choice, so I go sometimes.

I go meet dem.

I dey wear my best cloth, dey do small makeup, dey try smile. But nothing dey click. My mind no dey there.

But every time, I just go back stronger to chase Femi.

Na Femi be my own goal. After every date, I go reason say, "Abeg, na this fine bobo I want."

After every blind date, I go find Femi make my eye rest.

I no dey lie. My eye dey rest only when I see am. Even if e no send me, e fine dey cool me like pure water for sun.

One time, 2am—

Femi send me text, "Abeg, you fit drive me go airport?" Before e finish, I don wear slippers dey for gate. Loyalty no be here.

E need driver, I no waste time.

I jump enter car, forget say I get work next day. E shock say I show sharp.

Femi ask, "You really like me like that?"

E dey look me, eye dey corner, mouth dey twist. I no even shy.

As e dey talk, one fine babe dey front seat, her shoulder dey show small.

That babe dey vex, I fit see am. Her face dey fine, e wear one off-shoulder, and e carry attitude. But I no send.

I nod hard, no shame.

I no fit deny am. My head dey shake like agama lizard. I talk true.

Because I no get taste for ugly.

Abeg, everybody get wetin e like. My own no be ugly, I dey talk am anyhow.

I talk, "Femi, I love you!"

My voice loud, I no fit hide my mind. If e wan laugh, make e laugh.

Everybody love fine thing. Na that be the koko.

I no go lie for myself. Who no like better thing? As my mama talk, "Fine thing dey sweet for eye."

If na just to dress up, e too shallow.

I no be the type wey go dey find fine cloth wey no get better person inside. Face pass cloth.

No matter how I be, I love myself.

My own self-love no dey tire. I fit dance for mirror, dey smile.

Femi just laugh as I talk my mind.

E laugh sotay e forget say babe dey front. E voice carry breeze, e laughter sweet for ear. I happy die.

E hair rough, breeze dey blow am back, e eyelash long and full—abeg, too fine.

You see all those Instagram boys? Femi pass dem. E eyelash dey long, breeze dey lift e hair. Na God handwork.

I even think say e don do plastic, but e no concern me.

Na me first suspect say e fit do work for e nose. But I no even care. As e fine, na wetin matter.

E finger pink, dey hold mint cigarette, ash dey fall as e dey laugh.

The way e hold cigarette, you go think say e dey model for billboard. E pinky finger stand. Na posh.

"Morayo, na you first make me laugh like this for long time!"

I feel important. E voice get small respect, e laugh dey honest. I remember that line till today.

Yes, even my name simple die.

For office, people dey call me, "Morayo, Morayo." E no get ginger like "Adanna" or "Temilade." But I like my own.

From that night, e begin dey notice me small.

Na so small small, e dey take my call. E no too dey form again. Progress dey!

From ten invites wey e dey dodge, e go gree one or two if e mood good.

Sometimes, I go invite am, and e go surprise me say e gree. Na small win, but I dey celebrate am.

Sometimes, e even chop the food wey I carry come.

If I cook jollof, e go taste am. Even if e no finish, e go say "not bad." Na compliment!

Last last, we enter relationship.

Na God hand. After all the wahala, e still reason me. E shock people.

No be like those love film wey person go change because of love.

Our own na different story. Na real life, na condition make crayfish bend.

Na just say e tire for waka waka, family dey disturb am make e marry.

E mama dey call, e aunty dey pressurize, e tire for babe matter. So e just gree.

I get degree, I no dey e social circle, I get job, sabi housework join.

I be correct wife material—full package. At least, na so dem dey see am.

Everybody for Femi family like me—except am.

All e sisters, mama, even uncle. Dem dey hail me. But Femi, e dey do like say I no dey.

I no send reason.

E no dey bother me. If dem like, make dem hate me. I dey my lane.

I just know say my nightmare of ugly husband and ugly pikin don end.

As long as my pikin go resemble Femi, I dey alright. My fear for ugly family don end.

The day I post our marriage for WhatsApp status, I carry head up—

My status dey shine—"Mrs Femi!" Haters choke. Na victory!

All those wey say I dey craze, I show dem!

My phone dey ring, "Ah, Morayo, congrats!" Some dey jealous, some dey wish am be dem. Na my season.